


If I Only

by Sacramental_Wine



Series: hanzo76shipweek 2017 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Body Worship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I'm oddly proud of this, Love Confessions, M/M, Prompt Fic, hanzo76shipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacramental_Wine/pseuds/Sacramental_Wine
Summary: Hanzo76 week prompt - Loss. "Soldier 76 had always hated the Wizard of Oz"





	If I Only

Soldier 76 had always hated the  _ Wizard of Oz _ . 

First of all, it was clear that Dorothy lived on a very poorly kept farm. Secondly, he hated how everyone was just...handed the things that they’d lost or never had at the end. He hated it so much it burned him whenever he was forced to watch it these days. 

At the risk of being a bitter old man, those kids would never appreciate their courage, their brain, their home…

Their heart. 

76 folded his arms, trying to ignore the movie as it played, having been dragged to movie night by Hana’s puppy dog eyes. He would have refused if he’d known it was  _ this _ movie. He grumbled a little, looking over the sudoku puzzle he’d decided to focus on instead, trying to filter out the aching voice of the Tin Man as he waxed poetic on the beauty of having a heart and all the things he could do. 

Every single character grated on him, taking for  _ granted _ what they already had, filtering into the bitterness in his stomach. 

He’d  _ never _ get to go home. Hell, he’d never even be allowed to attend his father’s funeral when the time came. 

He’d  _ never _ get back the sanity left behind in the rubble of the building he’d lain under for days or on the battlefields of his youth  _ and _ old age. 

He’d  _ never _ see the courage in what he did, facelessly wielding a gun because it was all he knew he could do anymore. All he was  _ good _ for. 

And his heart…

What good was it anymore? He’d gotten it broken and dashed aside because of his own stupidity and his poor taste in people, his naivete. That blond optimist from Indiana had died a slow and painful death every day, fighting a man he’d once loved to near death on multiple occasions, sewing himself up clumsily over and over and over until the scars started to overlap like roadmaps of pain. 

He grunted, chewing on the end of his pencil as he erased a number that was wrong. 76 felt eyes dart to him every so often, people subtly shifting away from his deepening scowl. He just wanted to ignore it. 

The Tin Man pissed him off more than the rest of them. And he was tempted to just leave, but the rest of him didn’t want to listen to it if he did up and leave. 76 knew it would never be the end of it and he’d be dragged to  _ every _ social gathering. He could be working on something...or training...or doing push ups...or carving out his own eyeballs. Really any number of things. 

He felt a hand on his own, looking up to see Hanzo having walked into the room, dark eyes questioning. He and the archer had something of an understanding at this point, they had a mutual respect formed over long nights of silence on the shooting range and in the kitchen when sleep eluded them both teasingly. They would share a drink sometimes or other times they would trade a story or two. 

Hanzo tilted his head and 76 saw it as the perfect opportunity to escape. 

He followed the archer, expecting to be brought to the kitchen or the range...but they went to the balcony, the late Fall air cutting through 76’s self-loathing haze for a moment. Hanzo leaned against the railing, looking at 76, eyebrow raised. 

“You are troubled.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. 

“I hate that movie,” 76 said gruffly and Hanzo beckoned him forward. 

“It is more,” Hanzo said softly, “I hate that movie as well…”

“Why?”

Hanzo turned his head to look into 76’s eyes. “It reminds me of what I cannot have.” 

76 paused at that, looking at Hanzo. He felt, almost, that the younger man was, well, too young to feel this way. But 76 hadn’t been much older...when he’d lost everything. And Hanzo had lost it all when he was younger, much younger. Too young. 

“Like what?” he asked softly, Hanzo’s eyes darted away. 

“Home,” he said and it spoke volumes. Hanzo had, at one point, buried his heart with Genji and they’d spoken about it. He had left his home, seeking redemption. Had been a coward to kill his brother in the first place. Had discarded common sense when he went on the run from a Yakuza empire. 

76 understood completely. Every little inch of what was laid before him. He understood it. 

“And you?” Hanzo asked, soft and honest, eyes searching 76’s in a way that made him feel open, vulnerable, everything flayed from his bones to lay bare the truth. 

“A heart,” he responded, and Hanzo had the nerve to chuckle. “What?”

“Jack Morrison,” he said, the name not making Jack retreat into himself for a change, “you have possibly the biggest heart I have ever seen.” 

Now that...caught him by surprise. “What?”

Hanzo moved closer, into his space, eyes flicked up to look at him. “Yesterday you taught Lucio how to hold a side arm because you want him to have a backup option,” he said softly, hand gripping the rail, “a week ago you were yelling at Tracer to wear sunscreen. Hana dragged you to watch a movie you hate and you let her because you didn’t want to disappoint her.” He laughed a little, bangs shifting as he tilted his head to the side. 

“In my time here you have provided quiet comfort, never let me suffer my worst moods alone,” Hanzo lifted his head, fingers clenching slightly before his hand fell on Jack’s, “you listen to Genji chatter on about enlightenment even though you could not care less, you replaced McCree’s boots without him knowing because you found a hole in them. You help Bastion with rickety parts and have carried Angela to her bed every time she falls asleep at her desk. You, Jack Morrison, have a wonderful heart.” He snorted. “Maybe not many brains if you do not notice this, but definitely a lot of heart.”

Jack blinked at that, the information ringing as true, making that dead little heart beat in his chest. Hell he hadn’t known Hanzo was paying that close attention. At the time, he just felt it was needed, felt it was his duty. 

Jack chuckled a little, pressing a hand over his eyes. “Didn’t know you were paying such close attention,” he said softly, feeling Hanzo’s slightly smaller hand pull his own away. 

“You are a hard man to ignore, Jack,” he said quietly and Jack could make out the blush curving over his strong nose to dust over high cheekbones. “Impossible even.” 

Oh. 

Jack felt his heart skip a beat, his own face getting warm. Hanzo...was beautiful. Admittedly, Jack may have had a type. Thick thighs, haughty attitude, and expression like a funeral. He should have felt bad about that. 

He didn’t. 

Instead he felt his heartbeat and he took a breath. 

He had to have some courage. 

He twisted his hand gently to bring Hanzo’s hand to his chest, feeling the heat of their skin through his sweater. His other hand came up to cup Hanzo’s chin, feeling the bristle of his beard against his skin for a moment, watching the flush grow deeper on his cheeks. 

“Never could ignore you either,” Jack said softly, taking a risk. Taking a leap of faith. He bent down, leaning into Hanzo’s space, giving him the chance to pull away. 

The hand in his shirt bunched up the fabric and pulled him closer, Hanzo practically climbing him to get a better angle. Jack hadn’t been expecting the enthusiasm but he groaned, head having to tilt back as Hanzo managed to get his legs around Jack’s waist to hold himself steady as his hands traveled to silver hair and over strong shoulders. 

Jack scrambled to get his hands under Hanzo’s thighs, pressing into the kiss with the same level of need. His skin was starved for touch, and if the way Hanzo gripped his hair and neck and shoulders said anything Hanzo felt the same. Jack gasped as Hanzo pulled back, looking into his eyes, his own shining, an idea gleaming in his eyes, hidden in deep brown depths. He pressed their foreheads together, panting. 

“Jack,” he whispered softly, “are you...sure?” Hanzo knew, everyone knew about Jack’s  _ last _ romantic entanglement. 

Courage. 

“Can’t be scared forever,” Jack said softly, tilting his head to kiss Hanzo again, reveling in the soft moan that passed the younger man’s lips. They were still outside, in the open, making out like teenagers and trying to crawl into each other’s skin until Hanzo pulled back yet again. 

“Your room,” he whispered into Jack’s ear, “I have waited for us both to find our courage for weeks, Jack Morrison, I do not wish to wait anymore.” To Jack, it sounded like the smart idea, Hanzo’s brain was in the right place.

He didn’t put the archer down, walking through the empty halls as Dorothy claimed there was no place like home, her voice fading as Jack brought them to his room, Hanzo spending the entire time petting his hair and kissing at his ears distractingly. 

The door opened and swung shut, locking automatically as Hanzo climbed down, tugging Jack into the room and pressing at him until he sat on the bed, climbing into his lap. 

“Relax,” Hanzo said, voice soft and sweet, pulling Jack into another slow kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “For once, let someone else take care of you.” And, to Jack, Hanzo’s voice was pure temptation, aloe over a burn and he did, indeed, relax, tipping his head into every slow kiss that Hanzo bestowed on his lips. He let the younger man push him to the bed, slender fingers dipping under his shirt to play along the skin there. 

“You are a good man, Jack,” Hanzo said softly, pressing kisses along his neck, “strong and smart, able to lead without question.” The words sank into Jack’s skin as he ran his hands up the back of his thighs to hold Hanzo’s hips, the soft fabric of his hakama pants catching on the calluses of his hands. 

Hanzo grew quiet after, pulling Jack’s shirt off, fingers tracing the scars along his chest. The angry one on his right peck, still jagged and red. The keloid on his left side, the star burst from a shotgun on his stomach. Claw marks on his ribs. Hanzo claimed each and every one with his fingertips and lips, humming into the skin as though to heal it. Each sensitive touch made Jack’s breathing pick up, a soft wash of heat working through him. 

He pushed up on an elbow to watch, Hanzo’s lips skating up another scar, a flush over his face and a smile dancing over his mouth. He moved to kiss at a flexed bicep, catching the dots where stitches had been pulled free with a flick of his tongue before being kissed again, Hanzo making soft noises to match his own. 

The archer was hard, Jack was getting hard himself. But it didn’t feel….pressing. Just a background soundtrack to this moment. One hand reached up to touch Hanzo’s hair, pulling his ribbon free and Hanzo laughed, even as Jack caught a whiff of expensive hair conditioner from the sway of his hair. 

A creature comfort. 

Jack smiled as Hanzo pulled away again, continuing to meander over Jack’s neck and chest, as though he couldn’t get enough before sitting back and opening his own top, tossing it to the side in a rustle of silk, revealing his body in full, asymmetrical and dotted in small scars that had turned to bright white with age. 

Hanzo was beautiful, and smart, and courageous. 

Jack leaned up to kiss him, feeling the way their skin pressed together before Hanzo pushed him back again, grinding against him a little. “Do not rush me,” Hanzo panted into his lips, “I want to enjoy this...I do not know when we’ll have time again.”

That had the older man chuckling. “We’ll make time,” he growled back, eyes having drifted closed. Trusting. Probably the smartest thing he’d done in a long time. 

“Do not make promises you cannot keep,” Hanzo said, giving his neck a playful nip. 

“Mmm, I intend to keep it.”

Hanzo smiled at that, tugging at Jack’s waistband, standing to pull off his own pants and shoes as Jack struggled with his own before inserting himself back into Jack’s lap like he belonged there. Like it was his home. 

And the kissing grew fiercer, Hanzo’s hands skating everywhere as their erections ground against each other, slowly building a rhythm that had pre-cum rolling down the sides. Pleasure zinged into Jack in waves of heat, making him gasp quietly. 

But Hanzo pushed him down again, reaching for Jack’s nightstand, happily finding lube and checking the expiration date. “It appears we are lucky.”

“How did you know that would be there?” Jack asked, panting as he watched Hanzo coat his own fingers, adjusting his position to reach behind himself, gasping a little. 

“Mmm a lucky guess,” he murmured, smiling. More clever than the lot of them. 

Jack watched, hands soothing over Hanzo’s thighs as the archer stretched himself open, panting quietly and whimpering with every added finger. He was blushing, staring into JAck’s eyes the whole time, lips parted temptingly with each breath. He wanted this. 

Jack wanted it too. 

And it wasn’t long before Hanzo was running a delicate hand over Jack’s cock, soaking it in lube, wiping his hand clean on the comforter as he placed them on Jack’s chest for balance, sinking onto his dick with a quiet moan. 

“Jack,” he whispered, voice gone and tone still inundated with passion, “you have made me feel at home here.” He moaned quietly, rocking his hips, testing himself, making Jack groan under his breath. 

Jack’s hands explored, trailing up tempting thighs to skate over his waist and stomach to his chest, Hanzo sitting back and grabbing Jack’s hands to hold them against his chest. He was blushing down his neck, moaning quietly as he started up a slow pace. 

“Hanzo,” Jack moaned, “I…”

And Hanzo shushed him, smiling, licking his lips as he found himself a long, slow rhythm. Moving up to the very edge of the tip of Jack’s cock before sinking back down with a moan, head tossing. “Mmm do not,” Hanzo moaned as he moved more, angling his hips to hit his own prostate with each luscious grind, “do not contradict me, Jack Morrison.” He gasped as he came down slightly harder than he meant to, pressing his chest more firmly into Jack’s hands. 

Jack chose to remain quiet save for his gasps and moans, this was Hanzo’s show. 

“Y-you have stayed awake with me, not saying a word, for hours,” hanzo moaned out, starting to speed up, his dripping cock bouncing between them, “you have, ah, kept me from harm in battle and, nh, yet have not treated me delicately. Y-, oh, you have l-let me see the man within, Jack.” He bit his lip a little, hips jolting as the pleasure jumped into his body as firmly as it spread through Jack’s.

Jack moaned, feeling that tight heat get a little tighter, Hanzo slowing his pace to make himself last, his own hand flying to his hair when he couldn’t take the slow pace anymore, jamming his body onto Jack’s cock with a wail of abandon. 

“Mmmh! You, ah yes, you have made me feel safe, and welcome, and ooh! Human,” Hanzo cried out, head tilting back, looking a wreck as he bounced, the muscles in his thighs flexing roughly with each motion. “H-how could I  _ not _ want you?”

Something snapped in Jack, a floodgate, affection and lust filling him in ways it had not before. His heart thundered in his chest as he thrusted up to meet each of Hanzo’s motions, hands gripping his hips gently despite the rapid beat of their hips. 

Hanzo fell forward, kissing him hard and fast as he panted, words stolen by pleasure and need, the feel of skin on skin and lust blended to lust in a rush. Jack rolled into every heated bounce and grind, gasping as the edge started to build at the base of his spine, secure in the knowledge that Hanzo was no better off. 

He slid home faster, harder, hitting his prostate over and over as he kissed Hanzo’s lips, their twin wails of completion caught in the tangle of lips and teeth and tongue, wetness spreading between their stomachs and deep in Hanzo’s body. 

They rocked and moaned for another few moments, pulling back after a long, wet kiss that left them both with drool on their chins, a laugh catching in their throats as they nuzzled closer to each other on the bed, sliding to their sides. 

They could clean up tomorrow, despite what would be the smart thing. 

They could face the future tomorrow, despite their bravery this evening. 

They could talk about the way they felt at home with each other tomorrow, they wanted to enjoy the feeling after being lost for so long. 

And Jack felt his heart beat in his chest. 

_ There’s no place like home _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my Genji blog at thexdragonxbecomesxme.tumblr.com and ask for commission info!


End file.
